


Something About It.

by Galadwen



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Adorable idiots in love, Destiel is canon, First Kiss, M/M, Mostly Fluff, No Smut, On Set, castiel in our world au, jeremy carver makes an appearance, vessel!Misha
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-07
Updated: 2015-01-07
Packaged: 2018-03-06 14:45:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3138137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Galadwen/pseuds/Galadwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the dead of night and Misha was sound asleep when he was startled awake by a loud noise. Something crashed in the kitchen.<br/>He jolted up and grabbed the bat under his bed. Not that he really wanted to hit someone, it was just a precaution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something About It.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TKodami](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TKodami/gifts).



It was the dead of night and Misha was sound asleep when he was startled awake by a loud noise. Something crashed in the kitchen.

He jolted up and grabbed the bat under his bed. Not that he really wanted to hit someone, it was just a precaution.

When he entered the dark room, however, the bat dropped off his hands, and he remained speechless, while a translucent, shining figure apparently hovered just above the ground. It had a seemingly human form, but its edges were blurry and it look to be made by light, endlessly swirling light.

“I must be dreaming…”

The figure turned its head (was it a head? It looked more like several) toward him and spoke, its voice faraway and impossibly close at the same time. Deep, still, with a clear, high echo, like distant bells.

“I am sorry, I made it fall by accident.”

Misha stared at the floor to see a shattered glass. He looked back at the thing, completely transfixed.

“I…it doesn’t… _what are you_? Oh, wait, are you an alien? Are you here to kidnap me?”

“I have many names, mortal, but the one you know me by is Castiel, angel of Thursday. I suppose I can be called an alien, if you wish.” The voice sounded patient and gentle, but Misha’s mouth dropped, as he stood gaping in disbelief.

“No, it can’t be true. I must be dreaming. I knew I shouldn’t have eaten chili for dinner, ah!”

“I assure you, your digestion has nothing to do with this. I am, in fact, real.”

“But _how_? I mean…it’s impossible!”

“Your notion of possible is quite limited, as humans. I am real just as you are, I am a collection of particles and forces which only difference is that they have originated in another plane of existence.” The voice was still gentle, but it held an annoyed tone. The thing shifted—no, slid closer to Misha, its shimmering blue light giving the kitchen an eerie appearance. Misha found himself thinking that it was actually nice. If it weren’t for the sparkling alien.

“So…ok.” He breathed heavily, one hand carding the bunch of messy bed hair. “Let’s say it’s real. What do you want from _me_?”

“It’s simple,” was the casual answer of the luminous being. “I need to use you as vessel”.

Five minutes later, Misha was still awake, still standing in the kitchen, and the thing was still there. He hadn’t woke up in his bed, grateful to discover it was all a nightmare.

Five minutes later, after the whole series of ‘what?’ and ‘no way’ and most importantly ‘why me?’, the angel (Misha found it better to just accept it as the nature of the thing) request was still the same.

  
  


“So” he repeated for maybe the fifth time. “You want to use me as vessel.”

“I need to. I was cast out of my universe, I need to recuperate energy.”

“And you need me because...?”

The angel made a sound that resembled a sigh. “Because you are this universe’s doppelganger of my vessel. And because the energy of souls has healing power.”

“Ok so basically you want to use me as a charger,” Misha stated in a dry voice.

“I am sorry. I wish I could do differently. You can say no, of course, but you will help me greatly if you accept.”

Misha sighed again. This was the worst case of character bleed, ever. And he always thought Jensen had it bad. He laughed silently at the irony. Unless he was going nuts, that was. His rational part wanted to scream ‘no’ and go back to sleep, and he knew, deep down, it was the only sensible thing to do. Yet, there was the other part of him. The part that loved taking risks and going on adventures, and he’ll be damned if that wasn’t an adventure.

“Will I still be me if I let you in?”

“Yes, I’ll be in the back of your conscience, I won’t interfere with your life, unless you are in danger, or you ask me to.”

“Okay,” Misha said after a few more moments of silence. “You have my permission to…take me as vessel.”

He could have sworn that the angel gave him a fleeting smile right before he was blinded by burning white light. He felt his skin tingle with electricity, and for a moment he thought he was going to pass out.

Then, it was all over.

The room was as dark and silent as if nothing happened. Misha could have thought that he had been dreaming, if it not for the shattered glass on the floor. Slowly, he picked up a broom and cleaned up. Then he took a seat at the table and stayed there, contemplating the darkness and the enormity of his decision.

Not only were angels real, apparently. Not only was Castiel, of all angels, real. He had let him inside him. He was practically a walking nuclear bomb. He had decided to trust him, based on…what? _Familiarity_?

As if to reassure himself, he tried to test his new status.

‘Hey. Uhm. Castiel?...Cas?’

As if in answer, he felt a pleasant warmth filling his chest, like a low burning flame set in his core.

‘Oh. Okay. So…can we talk like this?’

He wasn’t sure what exactly he was expecting, but he heard a voice-a low, rumbling voice, fill his head. He had always thought that hearing someone talking inside your mind should feel like having earphones. He was wrong. So wrong. It was an entirely different level of weird and scary.

‘Yes. I am here. Do you need anything?’

‘I…uuuh,’ Misha started stuttering, which was very unusual for him. ‘No. Just checking.’

‘Then I’ll rest, if you don’t need me.’

‘Yes. Yes, you do that.’

There was another small flaring within him, and then silence -a strange sensation that felt very much like a void, Misha noted. He looked at the clock - 4:10am. He needed to sleep, because no one would have taken _Possessed by An Angel_ as a good excuse for not showing up on set.

\---

The day was slow. Possibly because he felt like a zombie, walking around mechanically, from make up to wardrobe to props to set. He hadn’t seen the guys all morning, they were busy doing an outdoor shooting somewhere.

He was due to have one scene with Jensen the next morning. Castiel and Dean were going to have one of their profound bond moments, apparently. He looked forward to it, probably more than he should have. Acting with Jensen was always a pleasure, even if it could be a bit emotionally draining. He felt a familiar tingling on his skin at the thought and his heartbeat increased. He sighed. His crush didn’t show signs of fading, quite the opposite. He had known the moment he walked on set that this wasn’t going to be an easy one, but he was a professional, and braced himself, and kept going.

Just as he was immersed in his thought, idly walking towards make-up, he heard a familiar chatter coming from somewhere behind him.

Jared was the first to catch up with him. “Hey you!” he clamped him on the shoulder. “How was your day, did you bang all the angels? We had quite the fight against some nasty werewolf, look! Jen even got wounded!” he smirked and turned over to Jensen, who shook his head pulling up a bandaged hand.

“It’s just a scratch. The perks of the trade. How was your shooting, Mish?” he smiled at him, and Misha’s heart skipped several beats, as it always did when Jensen called him his affectionate nickname and looked at him like that. He wasn’t sure he was going to survive the next morning.

He shook himself up and pulled up his usual joking mask. “Oh, well. Let’s see. Hannah and Cas are on their way to conquer the world of adult entertainment, we shot a very intriguing sequence where we both pole dance. The usual. Oh, Jen you should get ready because they told me it’s your turn, next. Plot twist - after years as costumers of strip clubs, Dean is finally becoming a stripper. For the joy of the fans.”

Jensen looked at him with a puzzled expression, then grinned. “Damn, I don’t think my glitter thong fit me anymore!” Misha didn’t miss a beat. “Don’t worry, I’ll lend you mine,” which caused both of them to burst out laughing.

When the fit of laughter was over, Jensen grew sober and turned towards Misha. “Hey, can we talk a sec about the scene tomorrow?” Misha frowned at him but nodded. “Sure.” While he was looking at him he felt something distinctively jump in his chest. He froze, thinking that he might have imagined it, but the sense of longing hit him like a punch in the gut. It was swirling and pulsing and _singing_ within him, making his heart race even faster than usual. And he knew what it was.

‘Dean!’

‘No, it’s not Dean.’

‘He looks like Dean.’

‘He is not, stop it!’

‘I miss him.’

‘I know you do but please stop it. I can’t-‘

‘But you love him, I felt it.’

‘No!’

‘You do.’

‘Shut up! This is none of your business!’

‘But I miss him so much. And you want to.’

The feeling of longing grew stronger in Misha, so much so that for a moment, he thought he was going to lose control over his body.

‘Please Cas, don’t!’

For an instant, there was silence in his head, then a sigh and a clear disappointed feeling.

‘...as you wish.’

Misha exhaled in relief. ‘Thanks.’

When he looked around, he saw that Jared and Jensen were peering at him with a strange look.

“Mish, are you ok?” Jensen was asking, grabbing his shoulder and getting closer to him, examining him with concern. His warm breath caressed Misha’s skin, causing goose bumps all over his body.

“I’m fine.” Misha took a step back. He definitely didn’t need this right now. “I just—I’m tired. We can talk tomorrow, right?”

“Sure.” Jensen frowned at him, still not convinced, but their exchange was interrupted by Jared clearing his throat. “Well, I don't know if you like staying here, but it's getting colder, and I would very much like a shower, so you will excuse me if I leave you! But please, feel free to continue without me.I'll see you later, Jay. Bye Misha!” and he went toward his trailer, waving at them.

\----

Later that evening, Jensen and Jared were hanging out in Jared’s trailer, having a beer and relaxing before going home. Jensen was lost in his thoughts. Jared sighed. It wasn’t the first time.

“What’s up, man?”

“What do you mean?”

“You are being distracted, you barely answer me.”

“Mhp, nothing man, I’m just tired,” he tried to brush it off but Jared could be persistent.

“It’s about Misha, isn’t it?”

Jensen didn’t answer and sipped his beer. Jared sighed again, louder, and rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Don’t answer. But I know I’m right, and you do, too.”

It was Jensen’s turn to sigh.

“Didn’t he…seem _off_ , to you?”

Jared couldn’t help a small grin. “Do you mean, more than usual?”

Jensen huffed. “You know what I mean.”

Jared nodded and took several sips from his can of beer, then stared at it in silence, tapping it with his fingers.

“Jay, you know Misha has a crush on you, right?”

“Jared, we already discussed this—“Jensen started to protest.

“Let me speak. He does. From the moment he arrived here. They way he looks at you…man,” he shook his head. “And I know you’ve thought about it. All the sexual tension between Dean and Cas, don’t pretend it’s accidental because I know it’s not.”

Jensen grumbled something in response, but didn’t object.

\----

The next day, Misha felt like trash. He had barely slept, kept in a constant argument with both Cas and himself.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to. _God_ knew he wanted to, so much. Well, God and apparently his nosey angel.

But what about everything else? What about _everyone_ else? What about Jensen's limits and fears? Misha was perfectly aware of them, and all his careful, cautious dancing around with Jensen, flirting on a thread, trying not to step on his toes, was because of that. Sometimes, he caught himself hoping. Sometimes, when they were doing a particularly intense scene, or when they were together, it was almost like Jensen was waiting for him to do something. Sometimes, when Jensen was in a good mood and flirted back, looking at him with that defiant glare that almost dared him to do something, Misha thought that Jensen may have felt the same.

But he never had the courage to cross the line. And apparently, Castiel had an entirely different opinion on the subject. And he longed for Jensen/Dean in a way that made Misha ache with something so profound he didn’t think it was possible.

‘Stop it.’

‘I can’t. I’m sorry.’

‘He’s not Dean.’

‘I know. He isn’t, but at the same time, he is. It’s the same DNA, the same cells, assembled for a different existence.’

Misha sighed in the dark of the night.

‘Well, this happens to be _my_ existence.’

‘Yes. And you should do something about this. Before it’s too late. I could do something, if you are too scared.’

‘No, I don’t want to. Stop meddling with my life!’ against all reasons, Misha felt a pang in his gut that seemed a lot like jealousy. And a sense of powerlessness.

‘Why?’

‘It’s…complicated, ok?’

There was silence in his head for a while, a silence so wide and perfect that could have been filled with distant stars.

‘No, it’s not. I don’t want you to experience the same pain I do. And to make the same mistakes.’

‘Why haven’t you done something about it, yet?’

‘It’s…complicated.’

Misha grinned, then sighed again and rolled in his bed.

‘This…aching, this longing, is that what you feel, all the time, for _him_?’

‘Yes.’

‘You should do something about it.’

There was only silence left, as Castiel didn’t answer him after, but Misha had kept debating with himself. Maybe he should do something about it, after all.

\----

When he arrived on set, Jensen was already there. He smiled briefly at Misha, concentrated on falling into character. He was tense, and hadn’t slept well the previous night. Jared’s words were still haunting him, stirring up lots of things that he would rather leave buried.

As if summoned by his own thoughts, Jared appeared from around a corner.

“Hey,” he greeted Jensen. “Just wanted to say hello before you start. How are you doing?”

Jensen looked up from the page he was rehearsing for the millionth time. “Fine. I’m fine.”

“No, you are not,” Jared looked at him inquisitively, while Jensen tried to avoid his eyes. “Look at me.”

Jensen reluctantly did. “What?”

“You are gonna be fine, okay?” His lips widened in a grin. “We’re all waiting for destiel to happen, so go for it, okay?”

“Fuck off!” Jensen waved him away, while Jared threw him another suggestive glance and went off stage. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes. This was going to be the hardest shot of his life, quite likely.

\---

“Cas.”

Jensen was standing in the room, fake blood running on his face, First Blade clutched hard in his grip, looking intensely at Misha. It was the third time they were doing it, because Misha kept getting his lines wrong. Or, rather, he kept choking mid-sentence. Jensen had asked him if he was okay with a concerned looked, but the fact that his stomach had done cartwheels when Jensen had touched his arm was not helping. As it wasn’t helpful to feel a swarm of butterflies fluttering in his chest. But how was he to explain that he was hosting an angel who was apparently so in love with Jensen’s doppelganger that he made it impossible to even stare at him?

‘Stop it!’

‘I told you I can’t.’

‘I can’t work like that. Please! Do something.’

‘Are you sure…?’

‘YES! Please.’

There was silence, and the angel seemed to have calmed down. Misha took a deep breath.

“Dean.”

He exhaled, moving forward, and suddenly, he felt it. The flaring, the surge of power within him, the presence in his mind spreading through his body, along every nerve, and taking control.

‘What are you doing?!’

‘I’m sorry,’ was the last thing Misha heard, before being relegated to a corner of his own mind.

His body kept walking towards Jensen, while Castiel's conscience waved through him. The air turned dense, and Jensen felt a shiver running along his spine. He swallowed dry and went on with his line.

“You shouldn’t have come here.”

“Drop the blade, Dean.” There was an echo of command in his tone that took Jensen by surprise. This wasn’t Misha’s line, but somehow it felt so natural that he went on with it, not breaking eye contact with him.

“Don’t come near me! I’ll hurt you, too.”

“I don’t think so.”

Misha walked to him, steps never faltering, and Jensen could feel Dean’s own confusion mixing to his.

“I am a monster, Cas, the Blade won’t let me…” he added, a bit of uncertainty breaking his voice, while non-scripted words came flowing to his lips. Misha was now really close to him, watching him with his head tilted and his eyes squinted, in the pose that was so Castiel, and Jensen found his heart accelerating as Misha’s breath washed over his face and his bright eyes pierced him and pinned him to the spot. They always did, but this time, there was more to it.

“You still don’t think you deserve to be saved, Dean?” He was whispering, eyes locked on Jensen’s, as he reached for his arm. “Drop the Blade.”

And as Misha’s finger closed on his arm, Jensen did, the prop blade clattering on the floor.

“I’m not…you should kill me, I’m dangerous.”

Misha smiled, a soft, warm smile that made Jensen’s heart skip several beats.

“That’s the most ridiculous idea I ever heard. And I’m really old.” Misha’s face was even closer to his, if that was even possible. Jensen was holding his breath at this point, and he didn’t even know why, but he felt himself leaning forward, mentally forsaking all his fears.

“Why?”

“Because you are worth every drop of grace I have left, Dean. Because I love you.”

It was a split second, when Misha felt Castiel retreating from his mind and leaving him back in control. He knew he coould have stopped if he wanted, Castiel only took him so far. But Jensen gorgeous lips were only an inch away from his, and he didn't, most definitely didn't want to stop. And before anyone could realize what was happening, they were kissing. It was slow motion at first, tentative and careful, turning to desperate within a mere moment.

There was a dense silence before they heard Jeremy’s voice yelling from behind the camera.

“CUT! Are you kidding me? This was perfect! I was holding my breath! Okay guys, fuck everything, we're doing it! Someone call Headquarters. Great job you two!” He smirked to Jensen and Misha who were still standing in the middle of the set, halfway between shocked and flustered, but still very close to each other and smiling a bit like idiots.

Jeremy’s yell only came a second before Jared's own howling and maniac laughter.

“I fucking knew it! You all owe me money!”

At the back of his mind, Misha sent a silent thought to a gloating angel.

‘Fuck, Cas. Not cool, never do that again.' He smiled. 'But thank you.'

 


End file.
